Conclusions to Conundrums
by Iceewhateverthenumbersare
Summary: It's been four years since Xelia was freed from The Riddler's grasp, and things are going great. She has two great jobs, great friends, and an overall happy life. What could possibly spoil it? Wait… They're letting WHO out of Arkham?
1. Only Time Will Tell

**Last we left off, stuff happened. Lol.**

**Only Time Will Tell**

Xelia brushed off the snow that had fallen into her hair as she entered Gaston's Hair Salon, ready for her shift. It was always held a relaxing atmosphere, complete with soothing music playing in the background, and lavender scented candles filling the air with their fresh scent; rather, it would have been relaxing if Gaston wasn't running around in a panic.

He was currently giving a speech about something to the employees, his hands waving about madly, further emphasizing his state of panic.

"Oh, Xelia, you're here. Thank heavens." He said breathlessly as Xelia removed her snow dusted coat. "I have big news," Gaston's hands continued to display his emotions, "Bruce Wayne himself is coming into the salon today." Xelia quirked a brow, unsure of what that meant to her personally; she didn't understand Gotham's fascination with the man, but she wasn't going to question Gaston about it. "This is the chance of a lifetime!" He continued to gush, "If Mr. Wayne approves of this place, just imagine what that can do for business!"

"I can imagine." Xelia replied as she skirted around her boss and hurried to the back room. She placed her coat upon one of the hooks, and donned an apron, ignoring her fellow coworkers, who looked as though they would more than likely swoon as soon as the CEO stepped foot inside the salon. True, Bruce Wayne was a handsome man, but he was also surrounded by women who were twice as pretty as anyone in the salon; twice as fake as well, she was sure.

Most of Xelia's day was filled with gossiping coworkers, and an anxiety-stricken boss. To add to the annoyance, every time the door opened, everyone would stop and stare at the door. She tried her best to ignore everything but the client in front of her, making small talk to help distract herself.

"I'll be sure to take photos of my Margi's recital." Xelia smiled, inwardly wanting to beat her head against a wall; one can only stand looking at grandchildren photos for so long before they snap. Still, Xelia kept up her smile until the customer was heading out the door, only then did she turn around and let her smile fade.

"Oh, allow me." A deep voice said from behind her, quickly followed by a girlish giggle. Xelia turned to see the handsome man that always adorned Gotham's newspapers, Bruce Wayne, holding the door open for the elderly woman.

"Such a gentleman." The woman gushed as she attempted to exit, only to have a younger man accidentally block her way."

"Oh, sorry, mam." The young man said politely as he stepped aside. Xelia recognized him as Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's ward. All the female employee's eyes quickly began eyeing the pair like hungry sharks; well, all but Xelia, it seemed. Gaston quickly made a bee line towards the two men, not wanting a overzealous employee to beat him.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne, it truly is a pleasure!" Gaston said excitedly, eagerly shaking the CEO's hand. "And you as well, Mr. Grayson; truly a pleasure."

Xelia ignored the swarm of coworkers who huddled in a whispering cluster, trying her best to "act normal", and not lose her head over a "celebrity". Instead, she went about cleaning the small table in front of "her" section of the mirror. She had no interest in a man who, more than likely, would never look at her twice; ok, maybe she would earn a double take due to her hair, but no reason beyond that.

"Aaaaaand, here is our color specialist, as you can see, and wonderful stylist, Xelia." Xelia turned upon hearing her name, finding a room full of people looking at her; Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, Gaston, and the gaggle of girls. She hadn't realized how tall the two men were until they were right in front of her. Mr. Wayne stood at least a foot taller than her, and then some, while Mr. Grayson stood tall, but at a more comfortable height.

"Oh, um, hello." Xelia said awkwardly, caught rather off guard by her boss' sudden personal space assault.

"Bruce Wayne." Mr. Wayne held out his hand for Xelia to shake, who in turn, took a split second to notice that his fine brown suit looked like it cost more than her car, apartment, and yearly salary combined.

"Xelia Moore." She said meekly as his large hand shook her much smaller one, making her feel tiny physically, as well as metaphorically.

"This," Bruce said, motioning to the young man beside him, "is my ward, Richard Grayson."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Grayson." Xelia said as she shook his hand as well, noticing a playful smile on his lips.

"Please, call me Dick." He said warmly. Xelia supposed it was due to him being close to her in age, that she felt more of a personal connection with Dick, than Bruce Wayne.

"Dick is the reason we are here, actually. He'd like to get a haircut." Bruce explained, while Xelia's coworkers were plotting her demise behind him; normally she was well liked, but when Bruce Wayne and his ward were involved, it all turned into a jealous mess it seemed.

"Well," Gaston cut in, clapping his hands together, "I'm sure that Xelia would be more than happy to assist you, right, Xelia?" That's when she got "the eye"; the if-you-screw-this-up-I-will-personally-make-sure-nobody-finds-your-body eye.

"Yes, of course." She said, now nervous for her life. "Please, have a seat." Dick sat down in the plush chair, while Gaston led Bruce away, to the back section reserved for "elite guests".

"So, you're not going to turn my hair green or blue, are you?" He asked, chuckling light heartedly.

"I was thinking that pink is more you're color." Xelia replied, as she lightly misted his hair with a water bottle. It was odd, it was almost like Xelia knew him, but surely she'd know if she had met someone as well-known as Richard Grayson before. She just brushed it off as maybe he just reminded her of someone she couldn't pinpoint at the moment.

"So, what made you want to dye your hair like that?" He asked, looking it over with interest. Xelia ducked her head a bit, not very comfortable with him looking her over.

"Ah, well, I just like color." Xelia said simply, focusing on his hair, instead of on him; he was rather good looking, but way out of Xelia's range.

It didn't take long to cut Dicks hair; then again, guys hair was usually much easier to work on compared to girl's hair. She removed the cape from around him, brushing off his shoulders for any stray hairs. Gaston had emerged with Mr. Wayne in tow from the back room, who was casually talking to some of the other employees, slaying them with his smile. Xelia caught Dick roll his eyes in the mirror at his guardian's antics as he stood up, turning to face Xelia as he did so.

"Ah, Xelia, you're done. Mr. Grayson, you look fabulous!" Gaston said as he scurried over to the two.

"Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you, too, Xelia" Xelia smiled shyly in return at Dick, telling herself to not read into their little exchanges too much; he probably, if not already had a girlfriend, flirted with all the girls just as Mr. Wayne did. Dick was led away by Gaston, back to Bruce, where the three men began chatting. Xelia resumed her "busy work", and began straitening her work space, as well as sweeping up Dick's black hairs. She looked up, when the door closed, Bruce Wayne's muscled frame easily distinguished even through the frosted glass of the door.

Luckily, for Xelia, most of the other salon employees were busy with customers, but the few who weren't practically sprinted over, assaulting her with questions. Truth be told, they didn't really talk too much, just some playful banter.

"Could that have gone any better?" Gaston, quite literally, skipped over to Xelia, shoo-ing away her questioning coworkers, his hands once more resuming their flailing as he spoke excitedly. "Mister Wayne was thoroughly impressed by our facility, and I think his ward was impressed as well." He nudged Xelia with his elbow, her lips forming a frown at her boss.

"Oh, I'm so sure; please, he has no interest in someone like me." His smile didn't falter in the slightest at her put down.

"Believe what you'd like, but he left this for you." He teasingly waved a dollar bill in front of her face, her frown twitching upwards at her boss' playful antics. Xelia rolled her eyes, and snatched the dollar from his fingers, her eyes quickly widening as she noticed that it wasn't simply a dollar bill.

"Fifty dollars! No way!" Xelia wasn't even sure what to say. A fifty dollar tip for a simple trim? That was just insane.

"A very generous tip for someone who has 'no interest in someone like you'." Gaston teased with air quotes, not that she was paying attention to much other than her outrageous tip.

Dick had no idea that Xelia Moore, the girl who had gotten entangled with The Riddler a few years back, would be working at the salon; let alone be the one to actually cut his hair. He wasn't sure if Bruce had known, if he didn't, he did, he didn't show it. Dick had enjoyed talking to her on a more normal and personal level; not that he hadn't enjoyed talking her as Robin.

He waited until he and Bruce went out on patrol to bring up the subject. Sometimes, it was easier for him to talk as Robin, than Dick Grayson, especially when it came to his personal feelings.

"Say, Bruce, did you know that Xelia Moore worked at the hair salon?" He looked over to Batman, who was focused on driving at that moment. Robin acted casual about asking, lounging comfortably in the Batmoblie's passenger seat, feet upon the sophisticated dashboard.

"The last I heard, she was working for Cobblepot still." Batman replied. Dick was used to Batman's short and to the point answers by now; he just took it as Bruce hadn't known, and decided to just drop the subject. Bruce's mind was focused on patrol at the moment, not idle chit-chat.

Truth be told, Bruce had known that Xelia worked at that very salon, as well as working for Oswald Cobblepot still. After he had so many encounters with the girl, and knew of the connections she had with some of Gotham's top criminals, it would be difficult to not keep a watchful eye upon her. Her safety was still in danger, as there was a vengeful Riddler just waiting for the right moment. Bruce knew that Edward Nygma hadn't forgotten about her; true, he was "locked up" in Arkham, but with someone as smart as The Riddler, that could change at a moment's notice.

It was only a matter of time.

**Ah, I love new stories; the smell of fresh paint wafting through the air, hard hat signs still hanging about, and those pesky teenagers plotting to put their hand prints in the wet cement.**

… **What am I talking about?**

**Well, any who, here we are the next story, and how exciting it is to be here!**

**I wish I could just throw you all right into the awesome action that will take place in this story, but we gotta build up to it. Curse you character/plot/atmosphere development! **

**(I know what you're thinking, "BOO! Nobody wants to wait for your lazy butt to update!")**

**I've wanted Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson in the story for a while now, and finally here they are! Next up, we'll have everyone favorite riddle loving villain! Hooray!**

**Onwards and upwards,**

**Iceewhateverthenumbersare.**


	2. Keeping Sanity in a Place like This

**Hey I don't know you, and this is crazy, but here's a new chapter, so call me maybe. Lol, that'd be weird if I actually added phone number. I'm sure I'd get death threats for not updating quick enough, haha. Just be like, "Hey Iceewhateverthenumbersare, update or I'll kill your entire family! Muahaha! Lol, jk, luv ya!". (Maybe one day I will, ha, just to see what people would say)**

**Rambling much? Lol, so just wanted to say thank you to everyone who have followed (stalked), favorited (that's not a word), and commented/reviewed this story! I love you all, and I love all my creepers, too. YEAH! I know you're there! Watching, waiting, in the shadows; you Batman/ninja/creeper-esque creepers. I love you, too!**

**Keeping Sanity in a Place Like This**

Edward Nygma despised Arkham Asylum for many reasons; one of the main ones being the gossip. Much like in a school setting, when there was nothing productive to do, all you could do was gossip. The main source of information was the recently incarcerated henchmen; or, rather, the ones who were craft enough to get into Arkham, instead of Blackgate Prison. It was rare, but there were some henchmen who surpassed the usual Neanderthal I.Q. The gossip came from them, and then quickly spread throughout the asylum. Most if it was just absurd rumors, while the remaining was just updates about the goings on in the outside world.

Eddie's interest was never found in idle chit-chat, but either way, he still listened for any interesting news. Lately, the topic was of The Joker, it seemed. The Clown Prince of Crime was about to beat his previous record of days out of the asylum, and every inmate was placing bets. There wasn't much to actually bet in Arkham, as there was no use for money, nor access to it, so the majority of the bets were just empty promises.

The red haired man's thumbs stopped mid-twiddle as his cell door opened, revealing a smiling doctor. Eddie never bothered to learn names; they were all the same anyways. Normally, Eddie would just overwhelm them with his brilliant intellect, leaving them flustered and insecure about their feeble minds. It wasn't uncommon for him to go through multiple doctors in one month, or sometimes, even just one week.

"Hello, Edward. How are you today?" In all honestly, Eddie didn't wasn't in the mood to talk about his feelings today, why he did things, and especially, nit his childhood; the latter subject was the most persistent, as well as annoying. All he wanted to do, was sit in his cell, and just wait until these morons declared him sane.

"I'm doing quite well." Eddie replied, his sickly sweet sarcasm lost on the salt-and-pepper haired doctor. Over the past few years, the doctors have been so amazed with Eddie's civility and the fact that he was actually engaging with them, that they paid no mind to his false tones.

Eddie just clenched his fists and answered the redundant and repetitive questions. Arkham Asylum was prone to driving people more insane, instead of actually "helping" them. The jolly doctor pushed his glasses further upon his nose as he wrote down some key notes; totally unaware of the fact that Eddie had killed him several times in his head already.

Plotting, deceiving, and waiting, was how Edward stayed sane in a place that threatened to drive any and all insane.

Happy blue eyes shined back at Harleen Quinzel in the dull "safety mirror" in her asylum cell; the mirror was slightly more reflective that a piece of tin foil and was nearly unbreakable. Harley could recall, while she was a doctor, being told that mirrors were therapeutic. They allowed one to see, as well as compare, the similarities between the patient and "normal" people.

A few faint scars were visible on the young girl's body, which had long since healed perfectly. Her main focus recently was gaining her gymnastics abilities back. After so long in multiple casts, all of her previous strength and flexibility had been lost. The bunk beds in her cell were wonderfully handy to swing on, balance on, and work out on; that is, while no orderlies were looking. Patient liability got in the way of all of her fun. Harley didn't care though; she'd just resume her activities once her cell was out of eye sight.

Doctor Leland made sure to move quickly, seeing that Harley was quite vulnerable, emotionally and physically, when she was brought back to the asylum. Doctor Leland would only bring up the Joker to remind Harley that he was the sole reason she had spent months in casts. She was trying to lead Harley away from her previous life of crime, by encouraging "normal" behavior, and realistic thoughts; such as resisting the urge to sigh dreamily when being shown a photo of The Joker.

Many of the new inmates had to do a double take before they fully recognized her. After so long in Arkham, Harley's signature blonde locks were now their natural blonde color. Naturally, she missed her usual blonde-self, but she remained positive, as it remained an excuse to visit her favorite hairstylist. Dr Leland had asked about the girl Harley called a friend; multiple times, even. She was surprised that the girl had willingly met with Harley, even after she had practically taken the girl hostage.

Harley let out a sigh as she flopped backwards onto her bed, an orderly passing by to give a brief visual inspection through the plexi-glass wall of her cell. Once the orderly was on his way, and out of eye sight, she scaled her way to the top bunk, and dangled from her knees, just as a young child would from the monkey bars. She did wish that she could spread out a bit more, as her cramped cell didn't even allow for a cartwheel, but for now she was content with her bed.

Progress, positive thinking, and her personal therapy, gymnastics, is what kept Harley Quinn's mind focused of gaining her normal life back.

"Xelia, you're on back room duty tonight." Todd announced as Xelia began her shift. There was a love hate relationship everyone held with the backroom. Just about all Mr. Cobblepot's "business associates" would tip astonishingly well, and there was the perk of not having to deal with the general customers; less fussing, and such. All you had to do was wait outside the "conference room" door to be called in, take drink orders, serve drinks, and then repeat the process as needed. It was nice and easy, and yet, it was also quite scary, as you have no idea what kind of criminal, gangster, or mob boss you're serving. What if you say the wrong thing, or, God forbid, spill a drink on someone; those suits certainly aren't cheap. Also, despite them tipping good, you're never quite sure where that money came from.

Xelia had been quite confused when Mr. Cobblepot traded the tip bills she had received with some of his own. She later found out it was to ensure that none of his employees received any counterfeit or marked bills; he always took good care to keep his employees out of any criminal activities.

After adjusting her uniform, Xelia waited patiently until she was called in. It was odd, having to wait, but it was to make sure that nobody over heard something they weren't supposed to; something she was grateful for. She jumped a bit as the door opened, her boss' head poking out from the crack.

"Ah, Xelia. Please, come in, come in." He said as he opened the door fully, ushering the girl in with a flipper like hand. She smiled and was about to greet him when somebody cut her off.

"Well, lookie who it is!" Xelia clenched her teeth as The Joker sprung up from his chair and skipped over to his victim. "If it isn't my favorite little soda jerk, long time no see." The rainbow haired girl let out a hiss through her teeth as The Clown Prince of Crime gave her a hearty slap on the shoulder; using much more force than necessary.

A nice boss, great work atmosphere, and an awesome paycheck is what kept Xelia sane when dealing with people like The Joker.

**Don't hurt me!**

**For anyone in a rage over me giving The Joker just some drive-by-dialogue, have no fear. I have plenty of ideas for him, just not at this moment.**

**This is kind of an A.D.D chapter. We go from Eddie, to Harley, to Xelia/ Oswald/ Joker. I wanted to bring Eddie into the story, as well as touch base with Harley, and flesh out some details about how things go down in the Iceberg Lounge. Yeaaah, meet me in The Lounge, it's goin' down!**

**Some technical things to point out: Asylums actually did have hair salons, but they certainly wouldn't dye a "criminally insane" patient's hair (think about it, won't you; thank you.) Don't get me wrong, the patient would get haircuts, and washes, but not dyed. So, going off that logic, Harley has brown hair for now. It gives me an excuse to easily introduce Harley to Xelia again :D (lazy writing? Yeah, probably.)**

**There is such thing as Mirror therapy, but it's not just staring at yourself. Lol, I just made that up because, herp derp, whatever. Speaking of mirror, anyone catch my mirror endings? Yeah, I'm soooo edgy!**

**Tell me your comments, concerns, and social security number.**

**XOXOX,**

**Iceewhateverthenumbersare**


	3. Ingredients of Fear

**I'm back. I know, I know, I took an unexpected hiatus; bite me.**

**I lost two people who were extremely close to me, and the last thing I wanted to do was write anything. No need to delve into my personal life though, as I'm back again.**

**While I was away, the site got an extreme make-over! Whaaaat? So now, since I'm cool, each chapter will have a new image thingy-do to go along with the chapter. So with each chapter, comes a new image thingy-do... You know, what I'm talking about? No? Ok then, lol. (Image thingy-do = that little picture thing that chills on the left hand side when browsing sotries. I'm back to being a n00b!)**

**Ingredients of Fear**

Spending an hour crouched in a bush wasn't how Jonathan Crane imagined his night going. If he had a sufficient amount of his fear toxin, he wouldn't need to hide in the bushes outside the chemical plant; he'd just spray the guards, grab what he required, and return to his new hide out. A frown graced his lips as he recalled the reason he had to relocate in the first place. Prior to ending up in Arkham Asylum the last time, he had set up his lab and dismal sleeping quarters in an abandoned house, just on the outer edge of Gotham. A few nights ago, when he broke out of the asylum, he'd discovered that, while incarcerated, "his" house had been ransacked. It made him even more furious that it was some of Gotham's delinquents that had caused the pointless destruction of his lab. They'd left cryptic graffiti, smashed his vials containing his toxin ingredients, and had senselessly burned part of his wooden work table; all in the name of "fun".

The disgusting youth of Gotham hadn't changed a bit since Jonathan was their age. They still had no respect, no brains, and, worst of all, no fear of consequences; he'd show them. He would make sure that they came to fear The Scarecrow. Come to respect him, obey him, and fear the power he had over them. It just helped prove his point that Gotham's police were completely useless and incompetent. They just sat, waiting for Batman to hand them the criminal, or spoon feed them the clues, while he dealt with the villains of Gotham. They reminded Crane of the student teachers he saw; too meek to handle a gerbil, let alone rowdy children. He always enjoyed watching the poor student teachers squirm when confronted with a delinquent student, knowing that they had no authority.

"Alright Professor Crane, the building is now clear." It was about time! He made a mental note to reprimand the idiots he'd hired about taking their sweet time eliminating the guards. The red haired man pocketed the walkie-talkie into a burlap pouch before standing, the joints in his knees popping in the process. His long legs threatened to give out, having since fallen asleep from their awkward crouched position. He pulled his burlap mask over his face, covering his scowl; he was The Master of Fear, and yet he was reduced to hiding in a bush! His last full canister of his precious toxin hung on a holster, as well as two empty cans. His hired help could easily take out the guards, but the bat was a different story; that was who Jonathan's last fear toxin canister was for.

Once The Scarecrow set foot inside the chemical storage, he felt like a kid in a candy store. Shelves surrounded the entire room, all holding various vials of all sorts of shapes and sizes. He swiftly grabbed a few vials, inspecting them in the poor light provided by a thug's flashlight. A total of six men, aside from Jonathan himself, were stationed throughout the building. Two outside, guarding the front door, two outside them chemical storage room, and the two that were in the room with him; one to hold the flashlight, and one to help him carry the chemicals, should he need any assistance. Unfortunately, they were all idiots.

"Say, professor, there's some pretty spooky lookin' stuff in here." The flashlight wielding guard commented as he held up a vial containing an animal heart encased in some green fluid. Jonathan growled as, not a second later, the clumsy oaf muttered a quiet, 'oops'. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the building's nearly empty hallways. In a split second, Jonathan Crane's masked face was inches from the clumsy henchman's, a canister of fear toxin being the only thing that separated the two.

Being anything but stupid, Jonathan had kept the fact that, only a single canister of toxin was full, a secret. As far as everyone knew, all the cans he carried were full. Judging by the look on the man's face, he fully believed that the canister was quite full, and ready to bring all of his deepest fears to life.

"Listen, you bumbling idiot, if you touch anything, aside from that flashlight, I'll make sure that you're too frightened to even close your eyes to sleep." His eyes narrowed dangerously, daring the man to defy The Scarecrow.

"Y-yes, Professor Crane." The man squeaked out amusingly. He let out a sigh of relief as Jonathan placed the dud of a canister back into his holster, and went back to the chemicals.

After that, there were no further mishaps, the two men kept silent, and complied with what The Scarecrow asked. Jonathan quickly placed some vials into his "pack-mule" henchman's arms; casually threatening the man's life should he drop any of them. The room's air was thick with silence, as well as uneasiness. After a few brief moments, the silence was broken by an eerie static being emitted from the ex-professor's walkie-talkie. His eyes swiveled down to the burlap sack that held the small communication device. He'd made it crystal clear that it was not to be used, unless it was an emergency; something was wrong.

"Turn off the light." Jonathan ordered, standing still as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness that now shrouded them. Once the burlap clad man could see well enough to decipher what was what, albeit vaguely, he sent out the flashlight wielding man to investigate the hallway. Clutching the flashlight as if it would save him, he shakily entered the hall, quickly looking down each end.

"T-they're gone." He said frantically, referring to the men who were previously stationed in the hall. All attempts to stand courageous and strong, were all gone. The man quickly turned on the flashlight, not caring about the prior command The Scarecrow had given him, and pointed it all around, only heightening his paranoia due to the shadows he'd created. "He-he's here! The Batman is here! We're trapped!" The man's breathing became labored, the beam of his flashlight quaking more and more as the seconds passed.

The Scarecrow could easily tell that the man's "fight-or-flight" senses had kicked in, and were leaning towards the latter action. He ground his teeth as, just as he predicted, the man quickly fled down the hall; this idiot was going to ruin everything! A scream echoed down the hall, announcing that Batman really was here.

"Boss, boss, what- what are we going to do?" Jonathan Crane learned long ago that fear was highly contagious; all it takes is one person to plant the seed that something was frightening, and in seconds it could easily take over and entire body of people. The man who was carrying the ingredients was beginning to grow frantic, vials of chemicals clanking together, threatening to shatter against one another. Jonathan quickly readied his only potent canister of fear toxin, pressing himself against the wall, eliminating an attack from behind. The hallway was lit by the abandoned flashlight, casting long shadows, and ruining Jonathan's plan of hiding in the dark; it wouldn't have made a difference, as Batman seemed to thrive in the darkness.

He looked away for a second. Just a single second was all it took for the only henchman Jonathan had remaining to disappear; more importantly, his chemical ingredients disappeared as well. Vulnerability wasn't a feeling Jonathan enjoyed, having felt vulnerable for a good portion of his life. A horrid feeling crept up his spine; the feeling of fear. He wasn't supposed to feel fear himself, he was supposed to be fearless and inflict fear upon others. Yet, here he was, back against a wall, alone, and, mildly frightened. His pulse quickened as he tightened his grip on the can, eyes darting all around, not trusting any shadow he saw.

"It's over, Crane." That voice alone was enough to make any criminal give themselves up. Jonathan Crane wasn't just any criminal; he was the Master of Fear, and he wouldn't give himself up without a fight. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and without any hesitation, he sprayed the figure with his toxin. Batman stumbled back a bit, as The Scarecrow cackled madly.

"Give into the fear, Batman! Bow before me, The Master of Fear, The Scarecrow!" Jonathan shouted, waiting for Batman to fall at his feet. That moment never came. Batman calmly held up an empty syringe, while Robin quickly apprehended the shocked man. "No! No! Y-You can't beat fear!" Jonathan yelled as he thrashed about. Batman removed Crane's mask, symbolizing that The Scarecrow had officially lost this round.

"You're right; I can't. I can neutralize your toxin though." Batman said as he helped his young sidekick get Crane to the Batmobile. The two vigilantes ignored the red haired man's insane shouting about fear and such, as they passed a large horde of police, as well as The Scarecrow's six henchmen.

"Good job, Batman. I assume you personally want to drop him off?" Commissioner Gordon asked, nodding his head towards the still shrieking Crane. Batman just nodded, his firm grip unyielding on Jonathan's thin, struggling arms. "Thank you again." The commissioner called out to the Dynamic Duo's retreating forms. He couldn't help but shake his head at Jonathan Crane's insane threats of brining all of Gotham and Batman to their knees. "What a night."

**This chapter isn't what I wanted to write about, really, but it is necessary to the plot, and it was a good refresher for me to get back into writing.**

**I'm rusty, so this chapter might not be as up to par as the others. Sue me.**

**Jonathan really is a complex character to write. There's SOOOO much that I want to include when I write him. I want to include his backstory, his thoughts, how he interacts with others, and so much more. I feel like I could easily write a novel on him, lol. **

**Anyway, tell me your thoughts and such on this chapter.**

**Glad to be back,**

**Iceewhateverthenumbersare**


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